Iggy Python's Flying Mint Bunny Circus
by TheLadyInGold
Summary: England introduces America to the comedic genius that is Monty Python. Hilarity ensues sometimes at inopportune moments . Drabble-ish and America's very overactive imagination. Mainly rated T for Iggy's language.
1. Oh Iggy, What Have You Done?

"Whatcha watching, Iggy?" America casually asked.

"It's not Iggy, you git," England snapped, turning his attention from the television to his cheeky younger brother. "Use my proper given name if you would be so kind."

"But your middle name IS Ignatius," America replied cheerfully. England sighed and turned back to the TV...

"But what are you watching, dude?" America asked again. England glared at him.

"Monty Python's Flying Circus."

"What's it about?"

England gave America a look that could melt stone. "Monty Python," he answered, pronouncing each word very slowly and deliberately, "is perhaps one of the greatest, most brilliant comedy groups ever. And this is their program."

"Is it kinda like Mr. Bean?" America asked. "Because he's funny."

England sighed again and rubbed his forehead. "Why do you talk so bloody much?"

"Dude, chill, I just wanted to know what you were watching," America retorted. "You're practically glued to it."

"Well, I've told you," England answered him shortly. "Now either shut up and leave or sit down, shut up and watch." America was curious, so he decided to watch...

_What's going to happen, you ask? Watch this space... America's very overactive imagination will soon take over. And for the record, yes, I do love Monty Python._


	2. Lovely Spam Wonderful Spam

America was HOOKED.

After sitting down and watching Monty Python's Flying Circus with England, America was absolutely hooked. He began watching every episode that aired on public television... and watching clips on Youtube. He even sat down one Saturday and watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail AND Life of Brian ("It kinda sucked, but whatever** {A/N I didn't really like Life of Brian personally either}**) AND The Meaning of Life AND And Now For Something Completely Different. He even began tossing out Monty Python quotes at every opportunity.

"Ye gads, I've created a monster," England muttered in despair.

One sunny morning, America was seated in a booth at his favorite diner, enjoying some of "the most epic French toast ever". The bell on the door of the diner jingled and America looked up to see Austria and Hungary coming in.

"Are we going to eat HERE?" Austria wrinkled his nose in disbelief.

"Oh, sweetie, their food is delicious," Hungary exclaimed. "I ate here with Feliks one time. It was marvelous."

Austria didn't look entirely convinced, but followed HUngary to a booth. The rather stodgy old lady behind the counter called out "Good morning."

"Good morning," Hungary replied cheerfully. America nearly choked on his toast. _Now where have I seen THAT before?_ he thought...

"MORNIN!" England shrieked. He was wearing a rather odd looking pink cardigan and green apron, and a ghastly red wig.

"Whattya got then?" Hungary in a tweed jacket and flat cap replied.

England proceeded to list a variety of items, all containing Spam in some form. Austria, in a frumpy dress and cardigan, looked positively nauseated.

"Have you got anything without Spam in it?" he inquired, spitting the word "Spam" out as though it were some form of evil incarnate.

"Weeelll, there's Spam Egg Sausage and Spam... that's not got much Spam in it." England looked insulted.

"But I don't want any Spam," Austria replied rather petulantly.

Suddenly, America noticed that Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Finland and Iceland were seated in a booth in a corner. _What are they wearing?_ he thought. They all had these weird fur coats, and horned helmets..._ what?_  
Not only that, they were singing this odd chant: "Spam, spam, Spam, Spam, Lovely Spaaaaam! Won-der-ful SPAM!"

This enraged England, who grabbed a wooden spoon, beat the counter with it and screamed "SHUT UP! SHUUUUUTTTT UUUUUPPPP!" The Nordics fell silent, and England muttered, "Bloody Vikings." Then he glared at Austria and screeched, "Ya can't have egg, bacon, Spam and sausage without the SPAM!"

"WHY NOT?" Austria demanded.

"BLAAAHH! It wouldn't be egg, bacon, Spam and sausage now would it?" England answered, still screeching.

"I DON'T LIKE SPAM!" Austria shrieked, and Hungary laid her hand on his arm.

"Oh, don't make a fuss dear, I'll have your spam! I love it! I'm having Spam Spam Spam Spam..." The Nordics began singing again, provoking England to scream at them. Then, the door burst open and Russia walked in with a book in his hands. America laughed as Russia approached England...

"Great boobies, honeybun..." Russia began reading. America just couldn't contain himself. He burst into loud laughter...

"Alfred, have you lost your mind?" America jumped as Austria's voice shattered his daydream. He realized that everyone in the diner was looking at him. Austria continued, "What were you laughing at?"

America's face turned bright red. "You had to be there..." he mumbled.

OoOoOoOoOo

_**I just couldn't help myself. I shortened the sketch a little so as not to completley plagiarize from Monty Python. I own nothing.**_


	3. The SpanishPrussianFrench Inquisition

America was still red-faced as he pulled into the driveway of England's house. _I can't believe I laughed out loud at THAT_, he thought. _But then again, it was pretty funny..._

As he bounded up the front steps, he could hear England's voice through the door, "BLOODY HELL! PETER, WHAT HAPPENED TO MY VASE?" America opened the front door (it was unlocked) and came upon a broken vase, an angry England, and a very upset Sealand (and Sealand's pet goat).

"I don't know what happened!" Sealand wailed. "I wasn't anywhere near that table. I was sitting in the parlor petting Garry and I heard a noise. When I came out here, I saw the vase on the floor, broken. Honest!"

England glared down at the boy, who was twisting his fingers in the shaggy hair of the goat standing at his side. "Peter, nothing breaks by itself... now tell me. What. Happened. To. The. Vase?"

"I already told you I don't know!" Sealand cried. "What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

Oh, if only Sealand had known what he triggered with that phrase! America immediately zoned out...

**DRAMATIC CHORD!** Spain, Prussia and France burst out of a linen closet, dressed in... red robes?

"HNOOOOOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!" Spain bellowed. "Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise... Our two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency... Our *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency.."

"And being awesome," Prussia cut in.

"Ohonhonhonhon, and being overwhelmingly sexy..." France added.

"No, you two, that's not right," Spain growled in frustration. "Can we do that again?"

"What are you worthless sods doing in my house?" England roared.

Spain ignored him and told Sealand, "I'll come in again." He, Prussia and France reentered the linen closet.

Sealand sighed and recited, "What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

**DRAMATIC CHORD!**

"HNOOOOOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION! Our two chief weapons are fear and surprise, and overwhelming... no, wait, that's wrong again..."

"WHAT IS THE POINT OF THIS?" England shouted, his face turning beet red.

Spain turned to Prussia and said, "I can't say it, you're going to have to say it..."

"Say what? That I'm awesome?" Prussia responded.

"No, the bit about 'Our chief weapons are ...'"

"I can't do that," Prussia complained as Spain shoved him and France back behind the door of the linen closet.

Sealand whined, "Do I have to say it again?"

"Please," shouted Spain, his voice muffled by the door. By this time England was so flabbergasted that he was completely silent.

Sealand sighed, and recited again very mechanically, "What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

**DRAMATIC CHORD!**

"Um... nobody expects the... Awesome Spanish Inquisition... in fact, those who do expect... will..." France cut in here.

"They will embrace the _tres bien moi_, no?" He winked at Sealand, who made a face.

Spain became irritated. "Okay, stop. Stop. Stop there - stop there. Stop. Blah blah blah, fear, surprise... Cardinal Beilschmidt, read the charges."

Prussia produced a very official looking paper and read, "You are hereby charged that you did on diverse dates commit heresy against the Bad Friends Trio, by calling us all "stupid gits". We are NOT stupid..."

Spain interrupted,"Now, how do you plead?"

England regained his voice and exclaimed, "I did say that! Guilty!"

The three laughed **DIABOLICAL LAUGHTER** and then France exclaimed, "Well, we shall see about... wait, what?" The three stopped laughing and looked at England puzzled.

"I said it, because you are all stupid gits. Not only gits, but mugs, wankers..." Here he looked at France. "And frogs," he pronounced.

"Do you confess?" Spain growled...

_YES!_ America thought. But he didn't just think it...

"Alfred, what are you shouting about, you idiot?" America blinked. There were no Bad Friends in red robes, just the three of them. _I did it again,_ America thought.

England sighed. "Between you and Peter... and that frog Francis, you lot are going to drive me mad."

"Umm... hee hee... well..." America really DID feel like an idiot, when he suddenly was given an out.

"Ohonhonhonhon," France remarked as he approached the trio from the inside of England's house. "Did I hear my name?"

"HOW DID YOU GET IN MY HOUSE, YOU FROG?" England yelled, his face turning nearly purple with rage.

"You left the front door unlocked," France replied, winking at him. "I just thought I would stop by..."

"HE BROKE THE VASE! IT WAS HIM!" Sealand shouted, pointing at France. England turned to France with murder in his eyes... and once again, America's mind-to-mouth filter failed.

"Cardinal Fang! Fetch... the comfy chair!" It just slipped out. France, Sealand and England all turned to America...

"You are a bloody moron, you know that?" England snorted.

o0oo0o0o0o0

_**Once again, I own nothing.**_


	4. And Now for Something Completely Crazy

"You know, we could have picked something better and more entertaining than this to do while you're visiting," America whined as he and England waited for the valet to bring their car around to the front of the hotel.

"I don't know anyone who complains the way you do, you plonker," England growled. "I want to go see the orchestra, and that is what we are going to do." He shook his head, appalled at his younger brother's foolishness. America said nothing as they both climbed into the car, but after a few minutes he began squirming in his seat.

"Alfred, what are you doing?" England exclaimed, exasperated.

America groaned and tugged at his tie. "You know I hate wearing these stupid gorilla suits." England muttered something to himself that America thought it was probably good not to hear. "Hey, will there be food at this thing?" America asked. "I'm really hungry. I mean, seriously."

"When are you not hungry?" England snapped in return. "And there will be refreshments, but that doesn't mean you can gorge yourself silly on them."

Before long they arrived at the concert hall... "Pah-don meeee," America remarked in a mock-upper-class tone as he and England took their seats among the rather well-heeled assembly of patrons.

"Don't embarrass me, boy," England muttered to him. "Please."

"Couldn't we have, ya know, gone to see... um, Paul McCartney or someone like that?" America complained. (That was the first British musician to pop into America's head.) "At least he was a Beatle... you like the Beatles, don't you?"

"Alfred," England said wearily.

"Just sayin'," America replied morosely. He started to say more, but was shushed by England as the orchestra was being seated on stage. He settled back into his seat with a loud groan, which earned him an elbow to the ribs and a laser-beam glare from his older brother.

"Just. Shut. Up," England hissed. America decided it was best not to try him...

To his surprise, America found he wasn't as bored as he thought he'd be. He kept a mental tally of the pieces he recognized from movies, TV programs, other places.._. hey! The theme from... or, wasn't that on... whoa, I am actually enjoying this,_ he thought. _Sur-real._

England, too, was pleasantly surprised. _Perhaps the lad will prove me wrong after all,_ he thought as he glanced at his very attentive younger sibling. When intermission commenced, England turned to America and commented, "Not so bad after all, hmm?"

"No, this is actually pretty cool," America replied. He then proceeded to recite his mental list to England, who shook his head and chuckled ruefully.

_At least the boy is behaving himself,_ England thought as the second half of the program resumed. "Now," the concertmaster intoned pleasantly, "we will begin the second half of our evening with a work from John Philip Sousa..."

America perked up immediately. He was a little familiar with Sousa. _I like his stuff_, he thought. _It's really... patriotic or something._ "The Liberty Bell March." The orchestra began to play, and America thought,_ Now where have I heard this before? It sounds really familiar... it sounds like... it's..._

"Heh heh heh..." he chucked quietly when he realized where he'd heard it before. England turned around and looked at him. "Dude, seriously, picture this," America whispered. "Imagine, right now..." he gestured to the stage. "What if a gigantic foot came down and smashed the orchestra?" America giggled. "Splat!" England just stared at him for a moment and the corners of his mouth twitched. _Oh crap,_ America thought. _My big mouth is going to catch me hell again..._

Then, without warning, England began to laugh. His laughing made America laugh, which in turn made England laugh harder. That set America off again, on and on in a vicious cycle. It wasn't long until all the people around them were gawking in astonishment and a stern-looking usher was shining a small flashlight in their faces...

"Dude, I'm sorry I got us kicked out of there," America gasped, wiping his eyes as he settled into his seat in the car. England, still chuckling, just waved his hand.

"Pfffff," he told America. "The mental image was quite amusing, to be honest."

"But still, I'm sorry I got us in trouble," America answered.

England just waved his hand again. "We should have gone to see Paul McCartney."

000ⁿ0000ⁿ000000ⁿ00000ⁿ

_**Little ooc Iggy there at the end... but he's a Python fan too...**_  
_**I based this on a conversation I had with a friend one time about the piece of music in question, which, for those who can't draw the connection... is the theme to "Monty Python's Flying Circus". I told my friend that I didn't think I could take the piece of music seriously because... well... my mental image would be the same as Alfie's.**_  
_**Also, two internets to whoever guesses the other opening credits reference I threw in there. And no, it's not the gigantic foot... there is another one.**_


	5. Mr Turkey's Flower Arranging

America was no stranger to waiting in lines.

Lines at baseball games, lines at the movie theater. Lines at concerts, and lines at amusement parks. Lines to renew his driver's license, and lines at the grocery store... he even waited in line for three days to buy an iPhone when it was first released.

So he knew all about lines, and at the moment, he was in one of his favorite lines: the one at the hot dog stand. This line didn't bother him so much. Not only was he going to get something good to eat, he also had the perfect opportunity to indulge in one of his favorite pastimes: people watching.

Directly opposite the hot dog stand was a florist's cart with mounds of fresh flowers, attended by a woman with glasses and a cheerful smile._ It sure is busy today_, America thought as he watched a steady stream of customers coming empty handed and going with arm loads of assorted flowers. He chuckled as he observed a tall man wearing a mask approaching the stand.

"I wonder why of all people he'd be buying flowers," America said to himself as he watched Turkey pointing out the ones he wanted...

When America blinked again, he saw something very strange... Turkey had set up a table in the middle of the sidewalk with the flowers he had purchased and some other objects sitting on it. He also noticed that Turkey had a knotted handkerchief on his head and had grown a rather odd mustache.

"This is what ya do, okay?" He was saying. "Now if yer Greek I know yer a little slow, so pay attention. First ya get some nice flowers..." he hiccuped, pushing his mask back up over his eyes (it had slipped down a little), "like these isriseses here," as he lifted the flowers and then slapped them down on the table, breaking a few of the flowers' stems."And then some pretty begon-ee-as, and some... " Here he hiccuped again and slapped the flowers down on the table so hard a few petals fell off. "Uh, some, I forgot what these are called... oh yeah, and some crymanthesums, which are Jappy's favorite flower, which everybody knows Jappy likes me way better than that little Greek brat..."

America snickered as Turkey picked the flowers up off the table. "Are ya ready? Now watch carefully, okay? Next ya take the pretty flower-things and ya arrange them real nicely in a nice vase..."

A childish grin spread across the man's countenance as he began squashing the flowers, stem side facing up, into the vase. Turkey laughed delightedly as the flowers smashed into a messy pulp at the bottom of the glass container...

"GET IN! GET IN!" he shouted at the crushed flowers. But if that wasn't enough, he then picked up a rubber mallet and began whacking the flowers with gusto. "GET IN WOULD YA?" he crowed, bits of leaves and petals flying everywhere. The vase cracked a little as Turkey giggled gleefully and continued mangling the flowers, but he didn't seem to notice. America couldn't help but let his snicker turn into a full-blown laugh...

"What's yer deal kid?" America blinked again and turned around to see Turkey holding a bouquet of roses and looking at him in a slightly irritated manner. "Why ya laughin'?" He stepped closer, and with his mask covering half his face, he really could be imposing. "I didn't know that ya found me that funny. Ya laughin' at me?"

"No," America replied meekly, and fled, nearly dropping his hot dog in his haste to get away.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

_Haha... He just seemed to fit the part of Mr Gumby... overbearing, loud and clumsy. (No offense to the nation of Turkey or Turks in general... I am strictly going by Sadik Adnan's character.)_

_And who knows who he was buying the roses for? Maybe Hungary... but she might beat him up._

_I own nothing at all. Sorry I took so long to update, I know this is short, but the sketch itself is short too._


	6. The Most Fabulous Lumberjack Ever

"Come on, Matty... why are you so slow all the time?" America complained as he dragged Canada by the arm down the sidewalk toward the coffee shop. "I really want to get one of those fresh cinnamon buns while they're still hot."

"Geez, all right, Al," Canada groaned. "I'm not THAT slow." He continued grumbling for a few minutes, then commented, "I wonder what else they'll have for today?"

"Anything ya want, as long as it's got Spam in it," America screeched, making Canada roar with laughter. He was a recent Python convert too, having come to visit America during his many watching marathons, and now, the two young nations constantly traded quips, much to England's dismay. But hey, the older nation couldn't complain- it was a way for them to bond a little, and at least the two lads appreciated good comedy, even if they went a little overboard with it.

When they reached the front of the coffee shop, America noticed Ellie the pastry lady putting out a tray of cinnamon rolls with steam rising off of them... and he immediately started drooling. "Mmmmm..." he mumbled, eyes glued on his prize, when...

"Like, hi! If it isn't the North American twins!" Poland was blocking the walkway, dressed in a flannel shirt, denim miniskirt, knee-high boots and a knit cap. A sheepish looking Lithuania stood on the sidewalk behind him, smiling uncomfortably, Estonia and Latvia on either side of him. America groaned. He normally liked the chatty nation, but now... there were cinnamon buns to be eaten...

"Hey, Feliks!" Canada exclaimed, glad that Poland had acknowledged him. "I like your shirt," he added. America groaned again. Canada loved flannel shirts. Which was okay, sure... but if anyone made the slightest comment about any article of clothing that Poland wore, he'd begin a dissertation on where he got it, what it was made of, everything he did the day he bought it, and so on.

"Oh you like it?" Poland replied, grinning.

"I do," Canada answered enthusiastically.

"Yeah, you would," America muttered, still salivating at the cinnamon buns torturing him through the plate glass window.

"Dziękuję!" Poland exclaimed. "It's totally one of my favorites! Liet says I look like a lumberjack when I wear it."

Canada frowned. "Really? I think..."

Poland interrupted, "Nie, nie, it's all right! I, like, totally love lumberjacks!" He grinned and motioned for the Baltics to come forward, and they did so, looking embarrassed. To America and Canada blinked in surprise as Hungary stood up from a sidewalk table and came over to stand at Poland's side. "I would totally love to be a lumberjack! It would be fabulous..." The two brothers stared as Poland began to sing, accompanied by the Baltics. Hungary stood beside Poland beaming...

Poland: "I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay, I sleep all night and I work all day."

The Baltics:"He's a lumberjack and he's okay, He sleeps all night and he works all day."

Poland: "I cut down trees, I eat my lunch, I go to the lavatory.  
On Wednesdays I go shopping And have buttered scones for tea."

The Baltics: "He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch, He goes to the lavatory. On Wednesdays he goes shopping And has buttered scones for tea... He's a lumberjack and he's okay, He sleeps all night and he works all day."

Poland: "I cut down trees, I skip and jump, I like to press wild flowers. I put on women's clothing..."

America whispered to Canada, "Is this happening or am I just imagining it?" The Baltics, who had been singing along merrily, began looking confused as Poland's lyrics got weirder. Even Hungary seemed baffled...

"No, I'm seeing it too," Canada replied, eyes huge. Poland didn't seem to notice that anything was amiss, continuing to sing: "I cut down trees, I wear high heels..."

"You're so weird, Feliks," Lithuania muttered. Turning to Estonia and Latvia, he said, "Let's just go home." The other two nodded their assent and followed him, quickly putting some distance between them and the crazy blond nation.

"I wish I'd been a girlie just like my dear papa..." Poland was now standing on one of the tables warbling at the top of his lungs... Hungary gaped.

"I thought you were so rugged!" She cried in exasperation, and just like the Baltics, hurried away, trying to downplay any association between the two of them.

"I'm a lumberjack and I'm okaaayyy.. I sleep all night and I work all day!" Poland finished his musical number and opened his previously closed eyes, blinking in confusion when he noted he was all alone. "Like, where is everyone?"

"I don't know whether to laugh or cry," America told Canada as they made their way back to America's apartment, cinnamon buns long forgotten in their haste to get away. "That actually happened, didn't it?"

Canada nodded. "I think I'm scarred for life," he answered.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

_Aww, I thought Lumberjack Po was fabulous! Yeah, I could have used one of the macho guys like Germany or something, but... I think everyone does forget that Poland is a tough guy too, despite the wicked hipster pink shirts and six-inch heels... I mean, who else will stand up to Russia?_

_I still own nothing here. I have two more chapters planned for this fic: a take on "Dead Parrot" and "Argument Clinic". Also, to the anonymous reader who requested something from "Holy Grail": I couldn't make it fit here, but I am going to do a one-shot on that subject._


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